Chapter 7: Winning

Once Hook and Emma directed the Jolly Roger toward the passage to the open ocean, the winds became more favorable and the ship made quick progress. As they passed through the strait, they could see the beauty of the mountains that stood on either side. Made of rocks of so many natural tones, they almost seemed to form shimmering walls just barely wide enough to safely steer the ship through.

After they were on the other side, Emma found the satchel and the small orb that Odalee had given them to help them find their way. "What are we supposed to do with that?" Hook asked.

"Odalee said that once we're on the other side, magic should make it work," Emma answered.

"So you have to," he waved his hand, "you have to…"

"I don't know."

Emma closed her eyes, holding the orb in her open palm in front of her. It seemed at first that the orb wasn't going to work, but suddenly it began to flicker a few times until it glowed brightly and hovered above her hand. When she opened her eyes, the orb shot several feet higher above the deck, flying around for a few haphazard seconds before it suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. It pivoted slowly until it found the proper direction, and then dashed toward the front of the ship but slightly to starboard.

"I guess we follow it!" Emma said. "It's a guide."

Hook went to the helm and turned the ship slightly in the direction of the orb. When he did, the orb settled at the center of the bow and became a bit dimmer. "Is that good or bad?" Hook asked. When Emma didn't answer, he turned the ship to port and said, "What if I do this?"

The orb grew bright again, dashing in the direction they were supposed to go. As soon as Hook followed, the orb dimmed and went to the center of the bow again, like a tiny headlight.

"Okay," Emma said, "We follow it, literally."

The next morning the air was clear and they could see for miles and miles, but Hook couldn't find any evidence of land on the horizon, and he guessed there was probably quite a long journey ahead of them. As they traveled, Emma introduced him to some of the provisions they'd brought with them, and he was amazed at the wonderful taste of the food, even of the canned or dried items they had. "Wait 'til we get back to Storybrooke," she told him.

He answered with a silence that made her wonder if he would return to Storybrooke with her if he didn't have his memories back yet. As much as she wanted him to come willingly, if all else failed she'd overpower him and drag him back, maybe Gold would know what to do.

Emma began to wonder if Hook would remember her if he actually got to know her again, so she decided to share a few personal details. Even if he didn't remember her, hopefully some disclosure would build trust between them. It started off with simple things, stories about foods she liked and restaurants she enjoyed, but over the next few days, she shared more revealing details. The conversations about food led to explanations of the places where she'd lived and why she'd been so many places. Those stories led to a few tales of Neal or her parents, and many about Henry. Then she told him of her beginnings in the Enchanted Forest. Hook spoke occasionally, sharing his own experiences or asking a few questions, but mostly, he listened.

Hook wasn't exactly different, but in quiet moments, she could see his melancholy, and she was certain it was because of his brother. There was a lingering sadness that became obvious during times when he thought he was alone. By the time she had met him, he had long since dealt with the loss and painful circumstances surrounding his brother's demise. Or maybe the pain had just lessened with time. He seemed to find her stories a pleasant distraction from the thoughts in his head, though, because he appeared to be enjoying the tales.

More strangely, perhaps, was the fact that she didn't mind sharing these bits of her past. Maybe it was because she'd already grown to trust the man. She already knew who he was, or at least who he would become, even if he didn't recognize her. It could have been because she missed the way they were, and how he seemed to really know her. She missed the familiarity and love in his eyes, and the longer it was missing, the more she was willing to do anything to get it back. Regardless of the reasons, she told him more things over the next four days at sea than she'd ever told any one person. Most of the things weren't deeply personal by most people's standards, but Emma was a guarded, private person. And now this man had a greater volume of knowledge about her personal history than anyone else.

For those four days, the weather was perfect for sailing. They weren't attacked by any other creatures, so the days could have been so idyllic and romantic, had he remembered her. By the time they finally spotted land, the safe distance he kept really began to frustrate her. She missed him even though he was right in front of her. She wanted to touch him, she wanted their connection. He'd offer the occasional innuendo, flirting in the way that Hook had flirted with almost any woman when she'd first met him, but it wasn't the same. She could feel it. When land was in sight, the floating orb began to dance, moving around to demonstrate its excitement. "Looks like we're on the right path," Hook announced as he looked through his telescope.

He suddenly seemed more enthusiastic at the thought of adventure while he moved about the ship, readying the vessel. He announced, "Should reach land soon, Swan. Now, what manner of beast and terrain should I prepare for?"

"I have no idea," Emma admitted.

"Well," he said as he looked through his telescope again, "the land is quite verdant. At least it's not desert or frozen terrain. Lack of water and extreme temperatures are difficult circumstances at best. You'll need a sword, I suppose."

"A weapon would be helpful. A sword is hardly my first choice, but I guess firearms are out of the question."

"I'll ready a cannon," he offered with a grin, "And you can push it in front of you as we explore."

"Smartass," she answered.

With unexpected seriousness, he said, "Soon you'll be back home."

"I'm sure we will," she said as she studied his face.

He disappeared for a few minutes, resurfacing on deck with a couple of swords. He held them out and said, "We have some time to practice. Choose one."

Emma tentatively picked one up and said, "This one?"

"Whichever you choose will be yours."

"Thank you."

"Ready yourself," he said, unsheathing his sword and extending it in front of him. "Show me what you're made of. No magic. That would be terribly bad form in an honest duel."

She moved hesitantly, trying not to accidentally hurt him.

"Is that the best you've got?" he goaded.

"I don't want to actually hurt you."

"Hurt me?" he laughed. "I can guarantee, you will not hurt me."

"You think you're that good?" she chuckled, knowing that she'd found ways to beat him before that he couldn't even remember.

"I know I'm that good." With a quick turn of his wrist, he managed to knock her blade right out of her hand. As it clamored to the ground, he added, "Come on, love. I'm looking for a good fight. Don't disappoint me."

Emma could hold her own with a sword. She'd had a decent amount of practice since coming to Storybrooke, but Hook was obviously trained. They moved about the deck of the Jolly Roger, while he gave her tips on proper defense and using terrain to her advantage. They practiced on deck for nearly an hour as they bantered back and forth.

She finally had herself in a good position, backing him down the steps and toward some crates that she thought he might not remember had been put there. With a few more steps, she had him backed into the crates, and she asked, proudly, "Do you surrender or do I make you walk the plank?"

His eyes practically danced across her face. He was happy, truly happy, for the first time since he'd lost his memory. Hook was having fun in this little game. "You've proven yourself a decent opponent, Swan," he said with a tease in his voice. "Quite good form, for a novice."

"Novice?" she scoffed. "This novice has beaten you."

He wrapped his hook around her wrist and spun them around, releasing her sword to the ground again before he backed her into the same spot where she thought she'd trapped him. She tried to push him back, to be resourceful even though her weapon had been taken, but he didn't budge. He was heavier than he looked, a wall of muscle and smug confidence in front of her. "Alas, love…it is you who's been bested. A final lesson: Don't let down your defenses until you're sure a fight is over."

"Congratulations," she said.

"Thank you," he replied, but he didn't back away.

His body was against her, warmly persistent. She missed him. She missed touching him, kissing him, fucking him, even being held by him as she slept, and he felt undeniably good pressing against her. "Are you going to make me walk the plank?" she whispered, her eyes darting down to his lips.

"It would be a shame to divest myself of such beautiful company. Plus we make quite a good team. Perhaps just take an oath of obedience to me, your captain."

She giggled and shook her head. "I'm not really one for obedience." She lifted her head, bringing her lips closer to his and watching how, this time, he didn't back away. Her expression became serious, her lips barely moving as she asked, "I want to congratulate you on your victory."

After a second's pause, he said, "Seems like the right thing to do."

He didn't move at all, except his eyes as they fluttered shut just when she tilted her head and pressed her lips against his. This kiss lasted for only a few seconds before he pulled away slightly. His body stayed close but he paused, looking down at himself and saying, "It seems you really aren't a siren trying to steal my soul with a kiss."

"I wouldn't hurt you, Killian. At least not intentionally," she said with a tone that was much more serious than his.

"In that case…," he said with a grin.

His sword dropped to the ground and he wrapped his arms around her, his lips descending upon hers. Instincts and desires took over, her hand grabbing the back of his head as their kiss deepened. So much passion unfurled between them as their tongues entwined and lips glided frenetically. She felt his hand slide down, his palm pressing into the small of her back as his fingers rested just at the swell of her ass but went no further. The hard press of his hook was against her just above his hand, and he pulled her against his body until she could feel his chest and hips against her.

She could finally feel him, his body, his smell, the sensation of the touch that was uniquely his own. God, that passion was there, it had always simmered between them, two tortured souls who'd found solace, trust and understanding, and a ridiculous amount of basic physical attraction in an unlikely place. She wanted him so much that she was responding without even thinking. Their bodies were beginning to rock in a natural rhythm. She could feel his erection stirring as he started to harden against her more and more as she pressed her pelvis against his body. And her own reaction was undeniable, that surging throb of wetness, electricity and heat between her legs.

His hand moved to her hip, playing with the bottom hem of her shirt as his fingers started to wiggle under her clothing. He paused his kiss long enough to ask, "Would you care to take this congratulatory moment below deck?"

It was then that she really looked at his face. He was flushed, smiling genuinely at her even through the cloud of lust they were in. Everything felt so hopeful and sensual, and then she realized how different he looked. She remembered seeing that look on his face before. He looked just as he had back in the Enchanted Forest when she'd tried to distract the younger version of him in a tavern after they'd inadvertently disrupted the timeline. He even looked a little like he did when she'd first grabbed him to stop him from hitting the giant's tripwire. But he didn't look like the man she'd come to know since their very first kiss. That kiss that he'd confessed had brought his true feelings for her to light.

They'd made great progress from a few days earlier, when he'd lost his memory and didn't trust her in the least. Now he liked her. He wanted her. He even trusted her. But he did not love her. His look was about desire and passion, and that spoke to their mutual attraction, but Emma realized that the kiss did not bring back his memory, and at that moment, the happiness and desire disappeared from her face and was replaced by a look of sadness and defeat.

"Apologies," he said as he backed away, unaware of the true reason for her disappointment. He picked up his sword and walked to the bow of the ship to survey the area ahead.

"Killian, wait," she said as she followed him. "I don't want you to apologize. I think we—"

"Not a good time for us to become distracted," he interrupted. "We should ready for landing." She nodded, agreeing with the practicality but convinced that he was simply using the excuse to push her away. As she turned to walk away, he grabbed her arm and brought her back. Her heart thumped excitedly for a moment as he looked right into her eyes and said, "I will do everything within my power to make sure that you're reunited with your boy. You have my word."

In his eyes, his tone and words, she could see the truth: he was almost hers again. She'd won his admiration. She'd gained his trust. She'd earned his respect. As close as that was to what she wanted, she still hadn't won his heart. Ironically it wasn't until she'd lost his love that she truly understood the depths of her feelings for him.